The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)

Trying to quell the wild feeling in her chest that made her want to flee, Trynne forced herself to step into the chamber.

There was a flurry of movement to her left and she saw Fallon emerge from behind a changing screen, fastening a belt and scabbard around his waist. He had a rushed and agitated air about him. When he saw her standing there, he gave her a glance and hurried to a massive desk full of scrolls and papers and things. He picked up a signet ring from a gold plate and twisted it onto his littlest finger.

She had not seen him in months, and the changes in him immediately struck her. He was bigger, his shoulders broader, his gait and posture more robust. He was even more impossibly handsome than she had remembered. Fallon had always been tall, but now he seemed to fill the room with his presence. Grabbing a towel from the desk, he mopped his neck and brow.

“I was training in the yard,” he said, by way of excuse. His voice was wary, with none of the warmth or friendliness that they had once shared. There was no humor in his eyes, no mischievous grin just for her. “I needed a moment to make myself more presentable for the palace. I’m assuming you came to bring me there. Have we been attacked by Gahalatine?”

Their estrangement pained her deeply, but they could not undo what had happened. She could only hope time would heal them both.

“No, it’s not that,” Trynne said, trying to find her way through the dangerous waters between them.

He rifled through some of the papers on the desk, picked up several, and stuffed them into his pocket. It did nothing to hide the pain in his eyes. “Then why did you come?”

She wondered at all the correspondence on his desk. It would appear he was still dealing in secrets. His obsession with the Espion was one of the chief reasons she had difficulty trusting him.

“I did come to bring you to the palace,” she said. “There is news, just not the tidings you were expecting. We did receive word that Gahalatine’s fleet is on the way. Part of it was sighted by a Genevese merchant.”

Fallon nodded in a way that implied he already knew of it. “What news, then?” he asked. “If you can tell me.” The way he said it reminded her of another wall between them. The last time he’d asked her to share a secret with him, it had not been hers to tell.

Trynne licked her lips, feeling the discomfort of the moment yawn between them. Stroud stood in the doorway behind them, a silent observer, but Fallon gave him a dismissive nod, and the door quietly shut, leaving them alone together.

“I am sorry it has come to this, Fallon,” she said. “I am sorry to have lost your friendship. I never wanted that.”

He stood by the table, his arms folded guardedly. They were so much bigger now. She could see the scars on his hands, along with one on his cheekbone. She wanted to hold him, to comfort him, to soothe the anger she saw churning inside him. There was so much she wished for, so much she could not have.

Where once he had been glib and spontaneous, now he seemed to be struggling for words. Gazing down at the mess of correspondence, he sighed, favoring her with a sidelong look. His mouth twitched, reminding her of her old friend, the one who had never tired of teasing her. But the look was swept away like a cloud on the wind. “It was my own fault,” he said in a formal, self-deprecating tone. “I acted against my better judgment when I approached you that day. You were so kind as to point that out to me.” Again, the formality of his speech hurt her. “So, must I wait for this news until I get to Kingfountain? Has it to do with the Gauntlet? Is the king canceling it?”

“Not at all,” she said, shaking her head. Her legs felt locked in place, so she took a hesitant step closer to him. She pressed her thumb in circles across her palm, fidgeting slightly. She knew that Fallon was preparing for the Gauntlet of Kingfountain. He had made no secret of his wish to take her father’s seat at the Ring Table, the one known as the Siege Perilous. It was the seat of the king’s champion. Gahalatine had given Drew one year to choose a replacement for Owen if he could not be found. The winner of the Gauntlet would win that title.

What Fallon did not realize was the Fountain had whispered to Trynne that she must sit in the chair.

He was looking at her pointedly now, his gaze penetrating. He had the clearest gray-green eyes she had ever seen. Memories of their childhood together buffeted her.

“The Fountain has bid my mother to depart Ceredigion,” she said at last. The anguish of the feeling was still fresh and raw. “She will be leaving imminently to seek the Deep Fathoms at sea.”

His eyes widened with disbelief, and she took some small satisfaction in having shocked him. She took advantage of his stunned silence to continue. “She saw this in a vision. Drew and Genny are just as surprised as you are. As we all are. The king has summoned his council to the Ring Table to tell them. Morwenna is fetching your parents. She . . . suggested that I come for you.”

“Trynne,” he breathed, a look of pain and anguish on his face. “How can this be? How can the Fountain even . . . ?” He stopped short of speaking blasphemy. “You must be devastated. Both your parents?”

She bit her lip, not letting herself take too much comfort in his sympathy. “It is not what my mother wishes. Her visions show what will happen. Not why.”

“And she has not seen Gahalatine’s invasion yet? It means we’ll have no forewarning of where he will strike.” He shook his head in wonderment, gazing away from her, hands on his hips. “This is grave news indeed. I am sorry for you, Trynne.” When he returned his gaze to her, his eyes were full of compassion.

She took another step closer to the desk.

“I believe in the Fountain,” Trynne said softly. “Even when I don’t understand its will.”

“You have more faith in it at the present than I.” He chuffed, shaking his head. She reached the edge of the table, adjacent to where he stood. So many papers. So many secrets. It was like Lord Amrein’s desk in the Espions’ Star Chamber in Kingfountain. It would be easy for her to return and rifle through them, using her magic to make herself invisible. Where did his true loyalty lie? Would she find evidence here to incriminate him in a conspiracy? Or was he truly seeking to unmask the king’s enemies by pretending to be one of them?

“So Morwenna sent you,” Fallon said coolly after the silence became uncomfortable. He pursed his lips. “I had hoped you’d come of your own accord. But it matters little. I understand you have been very busy of late.” He gave her an arch look. It reminded her of his frustration that the king didn’t use him for important assignments.

“Fallon, let’s not argue,” she said.

“It’s not my intention to argue,” he said, folding his arms again. “I have no wish for another drubbing. When Stroud told me you had come, I had thought your news might be . . . well, that’s not really important now. I was wrong.”

“What were you wrong about?” Trynne asked, more confused than ever.